Someday I Will Treat You Good
by danniisupernova
Summary: Set in an AU post season 3. VeronicaLamb. Veronica's future looks dark and Lamb is changed.
1. When You Have A Hangover, God Hates You

This is the third time he's picked her up this week, drunk and acting like an idiot on the streets of Neptune. He's just glad she isn't driving this time. He'd usually take her back to Hearst, to that weird girl's room, so she could pass out in a safe place and hopefully not choke to death on her own vomit. But she was breaking and entering on the Kane estate (or what used to be the Kane estate). The new owners called him, frantic that some 'wetback biker' was trying to rob them. So he hauls her back to the station and then decides not to book her, even though he knows her dad would love to get that call in Chicago or Phoenix or wherever the hell he is this time and he knows he would love to watch her humiliated yet again, waking up hung over in a cell. Instead he takes her to the station just to keep an eye on her. She falls asleep on the interrogation room bench.

He tapes a piece of paper to the door that says 'Do Not Disturb'. He shushes Sacks and Wilson chatting loudly near the door. He knows that he would never do this while she was conscious, knowing what she would say and what he would say. It's almost two AM when he goes to get coffee from the Luncheonette down the block. Inga has gone home hours ago and the coffee in the lunch room is stone cold. Nan's is always open and he's been friends with the owners since he got his first job at the NPD. Martin gives him a ham sandwich, compliments of the management, a little inside joke: he is the management.

When he gets back, she's awake, sitting in his chair, her head resting on her palm. "Hey. You got anything for a hangover?" She smiles, trying to seem sarcastic, but slurring her words and sounding tired and stupid.

He sighs irritably and hands her one of the two coffees. Sacks can go without, he won't die. It annoys him that he knows how she takes it. Milk, one sugar, the same as him.

"So, what happened this time, Mars?"

She looks at him, glaring over the lid of the coffee cup. "Nothing."

"Nothing my ass. You were liquored up and breaking windows at your ex-boyfriend's former house. What the fuck is going on?"

She looks down at the floor. She's crying and doesn't want him to see. She doesn't need to give him another reason to laugh at her.

"Well?"

She looks up at him sharply. "Did I ever tell you how glad I am that you blew me off when I told you that I was raped?" He almost flinches. Sometimes he forgets how much she hates him. It's easy to when she's asleep.

"No. Did you know that if I knew Cassidy Casablancas raped you I would have killed him?" It's very late and his brain is three steps behind his mouth. "Is that how you sleep at night, Deputy?" It's so easy not to believe him. She remembers that pen tatoo she gave herself in 7th grade Algebra, when Mrs.Norman was busy explaining away slope formula. "Don". With a bunch of hearts around it. She suddenly has the urge to be sick on the floor. No matter how good they seemed, they were all losers.

"Duncan called me." She says it without thinking. She's still drunk and just realizing it. Lamb just looks at her, waiting. "He says that he's getting married. To some Austrailian bitch who he says is a great mom to Lilly." She looks at him angrily. "Feel free to start laughing at me any time. 'Veronica Mars, with her dead boyfriend and her distant father and her alcholism at the age of 21.' Not even Duncan wants her anymore. Not even some second rate former deputy.' I'm pretty fucking pathetic and I know it. But what I don't know is why you're not laughing at me yet. Go ahead. Laugh. Tell me to go see the fucking Wizard and get whatever the hell it is that you think I need." And then she's crying and this is why she used to hate drinking, because all the chinks in her armor would get so big that shit like this would start happening; crying in front of Donald Lamb of all people. In fact, now that she thinks about it, this is why she still hates drinking. Now she just doesn't have a choice.

He gets up and leaves. She doesn't want him to see her like this and he knows it. He hates that he would have laughed at her when she was like this only a year ago. But since Logan Echolls commited suicide, he's been looking out for her, not wanting her to walk out in front of some car while drunk or end up fucking some goddamned louse like Dick Casablancas because it's the closest thing to Logan she'll ever get again.

When he comes back she's asleep so he packs her into the backseat of his car and drives her home with him. He's too tired not to care where she sleeps.


	2. A Little Bit Off Kilter

His apartment should be cleaner and he knows it, but he's been busy. Right now, however, carrying Veronica through the dark and stubbing his toe on whatever the hell is on the floor and considers a job change. If this what 'busy' gets him, he'll go back to working the drive-thru like he did at 17. He gets her to his room and tugs off her shoes, jacket and belt. He hesitates before taking her jeans off and can't help but look at her underwear. Suddenly he feels like some 14 year old prick, who's only just learned what goes where and is trying it out on some unsuspecting- _I need to stop this. Right now_, he thinks.

He picks up her legs and slides them under the covers. Then he turns out the light and walks out of his room. He sits down in front of the tv, barely pausing to take off his belt (his tie is back in his office, hung over the back of his chair, where it lives) before falling dead asleep on the couch. In his dream their faces are shifting and all the blonde hair is confusing him.

She feels the sun on her face. It's too bright to stay asleep and everything smells unfamiliar. And she's not wearing pants. She bolts up but stops, wincing - her head feels like it's going to fall off. Everything about last night is fuzzy; she can remember breaking windows and then...someone brought her coffee, just the way she likes it. Dad? No, he was off in Brazil, chasing down some fucking murderer or mafioso or something. Ever since her investigation of Logan's...Logan's death, she's walked away from Mars Investigations and hasn't looked back. She and her dad have been drifting apart and she's moved out, living on campus with Mac.

But she can smell bacon and she sees her jeans folded on the floor.

It's confusing.

After she gets dressed, she opens the door and there's Lamb. Asleep on the couch. She looks back into the room she was sleeping in; how the hell could she have missed it? There's a Devo poster and a signed Clint Eastwood photo. There's a framed poster from the movie 'Unforgiven'. And there are pictures. One of a nice looking girl with dyed red hair, blue eyes and big boobs. She's hugging photo Lamb and giving a huge cheesecake smile to the camera, while he gives her bunny ears, a sly but happy look on his face. One of his parents, one of a little kid riding a horse that looks kind of old and...

Veronica picks up the last photo. It's of her, Keith, Lianne and Lamb. Keith and Lamb are both wearing aprons one that says 'Kiss the Cook!' and 'The Biggest Steaks Are From Texas'. She's only 13 in the picture, still young, still so fucking young, with barbecue sauce smeared on her face, smiling open -mouthed at the camera. Lianne is laughing. Everybody's happy.

She has the same photo in a box at home. When Lamb had told her to get some backbone (when she was barely sixteen for Christ sake, who could blame her?), she'd cut his face out of the picture. When Lianne had stolen her college money, not once but twice, she'd cut her out too. And yet here it was, all in one piece, all of her bitterness staring right at her.

She grabs the picture, walks quickly out of the room again and Lamb is sitting up and kicking off his shoes, something he must have forgotten the night before. "Hey," she says, a little bit angrily. He looks at her, bleary-eyed as if trying to figure out what she's doing there. "Why do you have that picture of us?"

"What picture? What time is it?" He rolls up his sleeve to check his watch.

"The picture in your room. The one of me and you and my parents. Why do you have it still?"

He looks at her for a second and she's suddenly afraid that he'll tell her to get out and never come back... It's completely irrational, so she chalks it up to the hangover. He sighs and says "Do you remember when I used to practically live at your house?" She nods. "Because it reminds me of that." He looks at her. She's not satisfied. "Do you remember that day?"

She shrugs. "A little."

"Do you remember when you asked me to hold your hand during the fireworks? You were like, 14."

She looks at him and doesn't say anything. She realizes she's blushing.

"Yes." She almost whispers it.

He laughs a little and she's about to jump on it, to tell him to go fuck himself, but then she realizes that he's not laughing at her. So she laughs a little too.

"Yeah. I remember. Holding hands was like, second base back then." She grins at him. "So. What do have to do to get some food around here?"

He grins at her and winks.

"Ew," she groans. He gets up and walks over to his kitchenette. He pulls two boxes out of the freezer. "Waffles or pancakes?"

She looks at him, incredulous. "Why do you have Eggos? Aren't you supposed to outgrow that at in college?"

"I work late nights and my microwave operates without the use of pots, pans or even dishes sometimes." He looks at her like she's an idiot. "And I got kicked out of college Miss "My -Scholarship-Doesn't-Involve-the-Use-of-My Knees".

He gives her a nasty look. "Unless it does." Same old Lamb. Same lame jokes.

"No Lamb. Sucking off people to get ahead is your department. I mean, how else did you get re-elected?"

They pause for a second. He's glad that things are sort of like they used to be, even if it's just for a second. She smiles a little. She hasn't really thought about it, but right this second, she's glad she's here, instead of with Mac who would give her annoyed looks and barely speak with her, angry after another night of drunken stupidity.

"Well, if you take me to IHOP I promise that won't involve any dishes. _Or_ pots or pans. It will, in fact, involve less then twenty dollars."

He sighs and looks at her. "Fine. But don't expect me to get the tip. That's your job."


	3. From the Ridiculous to the Sublime

"IHOP is proof that God loves us." Veronica sighs contentedly and sits back against the vinyl booth seat. It's almost twelve o clock and they've been at the resturant for over an hour.

They'd been talking shit the whole way to the resturant and while they were waiting for the table and the food. They'd talked about Keith's tendencies towards silly socks, whether or not Weevil and his family would ever be able to support his little sister's kid, about old times. He'd brought up her rape claims and she'd shut him down quickly. That wasn't something she'd ever be able to forgive him for. Her anger dimmed with time and revenge, but she'd always remember him throwing those words at her, like she was nothing, disposable. Trash.

Lamb just looks at her now and smiles a little. He sticks a cigarette in his mouth and lights it. She looks at him incredulously. "You smoke now?"

"Yeah. I hate to remind you Mars, but it's a free country."

The waitress comes by to refill their coffee cups and drops the check on the table. "You can't smoke in here!" she says irritably. Veronica laughs a little. "Guess it's not such a free country after all." She reaches for the check and her hand collides with Lamb's. "I told you, I've got this one."

She grins at him. "And I've got the tip, remember?"

He looks at her for a second, not saying anything. "I was only kidding. I've got this."

She shrugs and withdraws her hand. She looks at the clock. "I better get going. My classes start in a half hour." She gets up to leave. "Any chance of me ever seeing my car again?"

"It's in the parking lot back at the station. I had Sacks park it there last night." He pays the check and stands up. "I'll drive you."

Out in the lot, he's walking behind her. He knows it's a bad idea, what he's thinking. And it's not as if he can't help himself. He's almost thirty not thirteen. But he taps her on the shoulder anyway and kisses her, Veronica Mars right there in front of God and man in broad daylight. Like it's nothing to be ashamed of. His hands are in her hair and he's pulling her closer into it and for a second it seems like she's letting him.

She has no idea how this happened and she doesn't try and figure it out. For all her goddamned former prowess at sluething, she can't even begin to fit this one together.

_She tries not to think about it. The day Logan died. She's already decided that it wasn't suicide; his death had nothing to do with her and she's going to find out who really killed him. After all she is the Great Mars Detective, solving all cases in her path._

She gets drunk for the first time in a long time that night. And after that, there's no stopping.

She pushes him off of her and says "Fuck this," and runs, runs like some scarred little girl who can't even begin to deal.


	4. It Serves You Right To Suffer

Lamb sits in the front of his police cruiser, slowly smoking the last cigarette in the pack. He knows he'll have to move eventually, if he wants to go on chain smoking his way in oblivion in the IHOP parking lot.

i Well why wouldn't she run away? You are possibly the biggest prick she knows, now that Echolls is dead. /i 

As usual he makes a good point. He laughs to himself, thinking that if he wasn't so dead set on making up for past indiscretions to her, he probably wouldn't smoke. He should tell her that she owes him a lot of money for that particular habit.

He tosses the butt out the window of his cruiser, earning a glare from a waitress looking out the window. He thinks longingly of the full carton of Virginia Slims he has back at home. He sighs, resigned to finally leaving his spot.

As he drives down Dartmouth toward the liquor store he thinks about what a clusterfuck the day had been and it was only one o clock.

Veronica sat in her Advanced Photojournalism class, trying to pay attention. She'd run into Weevil on the way. He'd been bitching to her about the theft of something. Veronica had barely been able to listen to him, let alone look him in the face. After Logan died, she had slept with Weevil a few times, well more then just a few, for kicks, nothing serious. Most of the time it was the result of mutual drunkenness, the two of them ending up in the back of his car and Veronica sneaking away in the morning, guilty and quiet. Sometimes she definitely wondered why she always felt so guilty, but then she just stopped wondering. Alcohol could do that for her.

Weevil had, while complaining tried to pointedly suggest that she investigate it for him. She played dumb and pretended not to understand. She wasn't in that business anymore.

She must have looked bad while they were talking, because Weevil had kept asking her if she was okay. i And I lied to him. Like I lie to everyone. /i 

She glances back at her professor, a small hippie-ish woman from Minnesota, who talks passionately about Jim Peck and other radical journalists from the 60s and 70s. Veronica sometimes wonders if she'll ever be like Professor Addy, an aging woman who represents a movement that at some point lost all meaning and became a joke. i At least she's happy, /i Veronica thinks sardonically.

She continues to push memories of the morning away, trying to focus on the injustice of Wolfe's New Journalism Declaration. She doesn't think of a man in uniform, she doesn't think about forgiveness or pancakes or anything else that will send her down the slippery slope. She's got a whole bottle of gin stashed back in her room. Mac hasn't found that one yet because she tucked it behind the books on her shelf.

The bell rings and Veronica jumps out of her seat, trying not to sprint back to her dorm.


	5. So Long, Lonesome

_10 months ago_

The day she's been dreading had finally happened. The Coast Guard have finally found Logan's body. He had driven over a cliff in his car two months before and since then there had been endless speculation about what had happened to him. No one had seen him do it, but in a spectacular display of competence from Lamb, they had found the site of the "accident".

He had shown up at her door that night, begging for forgiveness. Veronica thinks back on that night and almost laughs when she realizes that she can't remember what it was that she was so furious with him for. Why had it seemed so important? Now all that mattered was that she would have to get up at his funeral and act like it wasn't her fault, like she wasn't completely lost now that any hope she might have had was now lying at the bottom of the ocean.

Her head was swimming when she approached the front of the church. She had been thinking the entire service about how Logan had once confided in her that he didn't believe in God at all. She wondered if he would think that this was incredibly funny or incredibly sad and stupid.

When she had started to talk say the words she had practiced over and over again, she felt her stomach rebel. She ran out the side door into the clergy's garden, upchucking her choked down meal of bagel and cream cheese all over the rose bushes. She spat out the taste in her mouth. She straightened, expecting to see someone there, someone who had come running to see if she was alright. Then she realized that all those people weren't there. None of them had come to Logan's funeral because she had asked them not to. Weevil hadn't needed telling. He had steered as clear as he possibly could have, going all the way to San Diego to party for the weekend.

She was alone, just like she told herself and everyone else she wanted.

She sat down on the grass hugging her knees to her chest in the black dress she hated and the black ballet flats she had bought for no good reason and sobbed. Since no one was there, she didn't care if she looked weak, like a little girl who'd lost her ice cream to the dirt and ants at her feet. She felt painfully small and fragile, a way she had only felt twice before in her life.

_Look at me. Weak, soul-sucking bitch. Aren't you glad no one knows that you can still cry? _

Lamb circled the chapel in his squad car. All he could think about was doing his job. His half-assed work on the Hearst rapist case had almost gotten Veronica killed. Not that that was entirely his fault. But a high-profile funeral like this one was bound to attract trouble, whether from rabid Aaron Echolls fans or the PCHers who had never really given up screwing with Logan.

Logan Echolls. The kid who had everything. The kid who had been able to drunkenly blunder his way through life and somehow manage to get into college and stay there. The kid who was Veronica Mars' one soft spot. A golden bad-boy. Or something.

It was then, as he was dreaming quietly about the case of beer he would be downing when he got off the job, that he saw her. The side gate to the chapel was open and there she sat, the Girl Wonder herself. He parked the car and got out, swinging his leg like he was in a cowboy movie. He grinned, glad to catch her in a weak moment. He loved seeing her in moments like that and not even because it was like beating down the proverbial old man. It was because he loved catching glimpses of the girl she used to be. The girl he had helped to destroy. He wished desperately that he could bring her back, but at the same time regretted nothing, relishing the new Veronica, the one who would hand him his balls if she wanted to.

The grin died on his lips as well as the quickly forgotten words he was about to say. She was hunched over in the grass, gripping her calves so tightly her knuckles were white. Her entire body was wracked with sobs. And she didn't even see him coming. He'd never seen her like this. Not once in the entire span of the seven years he'd known her had he ever even imagined this. She was completely defenseless.

He continued to walk toward her, his feet not seeming to register the paralysis of the rest of his body.

He hunkered down next to her and quietly, gently, put a hand on her shoulder. "Veronica?"

And then, the most amazing thing happened. Veronica Mars did not slap him or flash her razor colored eyes at him or throw his hand off. Instead she wove her hands into the sleeves of his shirt and pulled him to her. She hid her face in his shirt, crying silently and shaking all over.

He couldn't think of anything to do but hold her.

He rarely saw her after that. She didn't work with her father on cases anymore. He'd seen her only once or twice, snooping around the cliffs and the Neptune Grand, questioning people, according to Sacks who had had to bring her in on charges of harassment once or twice. The guy who had made the calls was a real slimeball, some upstanding fellow named Ratner, who was always smirking and making everything a hell of a lot worse.

On these brief visits to the station, she wouldn't look at him.

A few weeks after a particularly nasty incident where Ratner tried to have her charged with assault (a charge he dropped quickly after Lamb had called in a favor at the Grand, which would result in the asshole getting fired if he didn't) the calls had stopped coming. Then he only picked her up on drunk in public and one DUI.

As these progressed, he saw the two girls he loved, the smiling, sweet Veronica and the ball-busting bitch he loved to hate slipping away. He had no idea what had happened between her and Keith, but he was always gone, always making some drug bust or something, off in some foreign country just begging to be killed. Mars Investigations had been dissolved when Keith had gotten his new job. It seemed to everyone on the outside looking in that Veronica had dissolved with it.

But Lamb had somehow gotten on the inside, and he knew that it had nothing to do with that. Mars Investigations had dissolved when Veronica had.

_Now…._

"Veronica?"

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the light. Her eyes were sealed together with old mascara. She cuddled into her blankets trying to escape back into the dream she'd been having. The dream where someone had been holding her and saying nothing. Just holding her, because she deserved it. Because she needed it.

But real life called her back. Mac called her back.

"What?"

Mac stood in the doorway. She was dressed up. Veronica glanced at the clock and saw that it was nine. _Fuck! I missed Neidermyer's class again_. Her slouched mind began to put two and two together. "You're going out with Dick?" Mac looked at her new high heeled shoes and shrugged. She wasn't proud of it, but at least she could admit it. Veronica admired that.

"Veronica, these last few days have been pretty bad. I- I got someone to come and see you."

Veronica sat up. She had no idea what she was expecting. She was horrified to find herself wishing for Don Lamb. But she knew that Mac would never bring her Lamb. Unless she asked her to, which in Veronica's mind was out of the question.

All the other options were either dead or far, far away from her. Lily, dead four years, Logan, dead for one. Duncan in Austrailia, Wallace in Atlanta, gone to play basketball for a better team when Hearst had yanked his scholarship for "dealing drugs", something Veronica could have stopped had she managed to pull herself out of her drunken stupor. She and Wallace had not parted on the best of terms.

And yet when Mac stepped aside, there he was. Her Wallace. Her best friend. The only person who she knew, would accept everything about her, no judgment, no questions. It was now, when she saw his smile and his hair and the lazy way that he stood did she realize that she'd been aching for him.

She stumbled as she got up and ran to him. She threw her arms around him and started to cry, in earnest for the first time in almost a year, she held nothing back.

"Wallace, I'm so sorry! I'm so fucking sorry!"

"I know V. I know. But damn girl, you don't need to be so eager! You know I'll stick around if you just ask nicely."

And she laughed. Veronica actually laughed.


	6. There'll Be Peace When You Are Done

"You know Wallace, I'd almost forgotten how quickly you could eat a girl out of her junk food supply

"You know Wallace, I'd almost forgotten how quickly you could eat a girl out of her junk food supply."

Veronica and Wallace were trudging purposefully down the aisle of the Sack N Pac. She had been silent while Wallace had filled their hand basket with M'n'M's , Snicker Bars, Reese's Peanut Butter Cups and beef jerky, Jamaican style, of course.

Wallace smiled at her. She smiled back. 

"I'm so glad you're here."

She leaned her head against his shoulder, taking comfort in something for the first time in almost two years. "Veronica."

She sighed. "You aren't going to tell me that you're back because you need my super Nancy Drew abilities are you?"

Wallace laughed. "No. You told me very pointedly that you were no longer drawing on those particular abilities. I was going to say that Mac was worried about you. And that according to her, you've got a new guy. That isn't Weevil." He gave her a look. "So spill V-dawg."

"Well he's not really….I mean….you know…." She was stammering at him now. She didn't know what to say. She was sure that Lamb wasn't her "guy" now. I mean that had to be a mutual thing right? Just because she wanted it-

_What the hell? I don't want it! Do I? _

She thought back on the last couple days. Besides any kind of hard liquor, he'd been all she'd thought about in her drunken haze. And when she'd been pulled out of it…she hadn't even thought about Logan. Logan killing himself. His suicide note, the one that hadn't done anything to relieve the self-accusations she'd imposed on herself. "Wallace, I know that usually you don't freak out when I tell you things…"

"Oh Lord, you aren't dating a Klansman are you?"

Her mouth hung open for a moment before she burst out laughing. "No. But almost as bad. And we aren't really dating…"

"Oh out with it girl."

"It's Lamb."

Wallace gave her a weird look. "Have you really been _that_ lonely V?"

Veronica couldn't look at him. "Well it was just…at the funeral…I…he…"

Wallace placed a six pack of grape soda into the hand basket. He turned and put his hand on her shoulder. "You don't need to explain. I've been gone…and if you need somebody…well then it's not my job to walk all over you for it. As long as you're safe." He turned away and started walking towards the cash register.

_Safe,_ she thought. _What does that even mean anymore?_

Lamb circled into the parking lot of the Sac n Pac. He noticed Veronica's car. If she was there then he needed to talk to her, if only to apologize.

_Apologize, are you fucking kidding me?_

He knew that voice very well. It was the voice that had advised him to taunt Veronica Mars rather then help her. It was the voice that advised him to always go for the glory rather then the do the right thing. Or to play it safe eating donuts and treat Sachs like shit. He hated that asshole. And truth be told, the asshole sounded like his step dad, whom Lamb had had the supreme pleasure of cuffing himself after his mother had finally called in a domestic violence complaint after nearly 20 years of his step father's fuckery.

_So why do you listen me all the time?_

He got out of the car, ignoring that prick for what felt like the millionth time this year. Veronica was walking out of the convenience store with someone who looked a good deal like Wallace Fennel. He jogged across the street towards the two of them. Veronica saw him.

And she didn't run.

_Well that's a good start. Scratch that._ Lamb thought. _That's a fucking great start._ Veronica turned to Wallace as he approached and handed him the plastic bag she was holding. He saw her hand him the keys to her car. He didn't want to believe it, he really didn't.

By that time he'd reached them. He stepped up onto the curb. Lamb opened his mouth to speak, to apologize, and to recite a few lines of the speech he had been reciting in his head for the past few hours. But she didn't give him a chance. She grabbed him by the front of his khaki shirt and pulled him into a kiss. She was standing on tip toes and instead of forgetting, Veronica was, for once, remembering.

She remembered her and Logan's first kiss on the walkway of a seedy motel. She remembered Lamb's cruel smile when she had trusted him enough to help her. She remembered Logan's funeral and the long, drawn out wake wherein she was expected to hold herself together. She remembered the smell of Lamb, starch and cigarettes, as he held her outside the chapel, rocking her slightly, whispering that he was there, that she was going to be fine. She remembered his breath against the cup of her ear and how when she had finally peeled herself away from him, he had looked at her with a mix of respect and sympathy that had carried her through the rest of that farce of a funeral.

"Uh, V?"

Veronica and Lamb broke apart. Veronica looked at Wallace and he noticed that she was blushing a little. "I'm going to give you your car keys back, because I don't even want to _pretend_ to guess that I know what you and him are doing. Understand?" Wallace held out the Saturn's keys at arms length. Veronica took the keys, looking down at her feet, a bit embarrassed.

Wallace shook his head at the two of them and grinned. He walked away. "You owe me some bus fare Mars!" He shouted over his shoulder at them.

Thinking back on how she had gotten to be in Don Lamb's bed, naked and pulling him down on top of her, Veronica admitted to herself that it was a bit of a blur between the sidewalk outside the Sac n Pac and being back in this bed for the second time in two days.

But now she didn't really care. She lay back as Lamb kissed his way from her navel to her breasts and neck. She gasped as he thrust into her. She could feel the sheets rubbing against her back. She opened her legs wider, closing her eyes as he pushed deeper and deeper into her. She rocked back and forth, taking in a sharp breath as he rubbed his index finger in circles around her clit.

Veronica didn't think about Logan or Duncan or Weevil as all of this happened. Instead she thought of a little 13-year old girl holding the hand of her father's deputy while flowers of fire bloomed in the sky. It was a good memory.

Lamb didn't think beyond that moment. He didn't feel like it had really been building towards this, but as she wrapped her legs around his waist, lifting her pelvis off the bed to meet him, it occurred to him that them, together, had been inevitable. But then, he was close, so God knew what he was thinking.

Veronica's orgasm crashed around her just as she felt Lamb pull out. He came on the sheet next to her thigh and fell down on top of her, his hair just barely tickling the underside of her chin.

She wondered if everything was supposed to be fixed now.


End file.
